


The Healing Process

by Alkeline



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Anakin doesn't handle it so well, Feels, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, thank god Obi-Wan is there, the aftermath of Shmi's death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 00:18:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7144469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alkeline/pseuds/Alkeline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Shmi was buried and the weight of her death fully fell on Anakin's shoulders, he felt himself teetering on the edge; on what edge he didn't know. Still, same as always, Obi-Wan came to his rescue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Healing Process

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! In case you recognize this story I would like to point out that I am the original writer but I have a new account now! Something went very wrong on the old one and my stories for deleted. After a while I decided that I needed to repost this because it was pretty popular before. So here it is!

Anakin was kneeling by Shmi's grave, head hanging down until his chin fell onto his chest, hands folded in his lap like Obi-Wan taught him. Even with the weight seeming to rest on his shoulders his ankles were crossed over each other as he leant back on to them. Angry tears were streaming down his cheeks, a few of the salty droplets falling into the gash on his cheek he earned after throwing a tantrum in the guest bedroom; he'd knocked a screwdriver off the table and into his own face when he swung his arm across the desk in the corner. He ignored the stinging and shuddered at the almost satisfied feeling he got from it. 

The suns were setting behind him, one after another disappearing over the horizon, the heavy cold of the desert invading the usually dry and hot landscape with a vengeance. Anakin didn't move from his spot by the grave, counting the grains of sand on his trousers as he meditated. He stayed there well into the night until he heard the gentle hum of a ship circling overhead. He didn't look up, he didn't have to, he knew the sound of Obi-Wan's fighter jet better than his own breathing. 

A gust of sandy wind blew across the ground as Obi-Wan touched down, a slight hiss from the hatch announcing his movement. His footsteps crunched on the sandy floor, his cloak billowing in the chilly night air. It wasn't until he was almost half way to the door of the home that he realized Anakin wasn't indoors, but, rather, a little ways off to his right. His force signature was red with rage and ribboned with deep blue sadness, like the colors of a dying star. That was what is was. Anakin's signature felt like it was dying. 

Quiet as a Jedi could be Obi-Wan walked over to the crumpled form of his padawan, lowering himself beside the stiff boy and tucking his legs under themselves. He let the silence blanket them for a moment before reaching out with one arm, his hand going around Anakin's tense shoulders, pulling the sulking mass of a man into his chest with a practiced normalcy. In all their years, never had Anakin refused the warm embrace of his master, even when he knew a lecture would come after. Something about the constant affection tied to the action made his heart race without his permission, a constant beat of 'I love you,' and 'I want you.' 

This time Anakin resisted for a moment, trying to at least sit up on his own through his grief the way a Jedi should, but the comforting warmth of his master made the tears rush fresh and burning into his eyes again. His breath hitched sickeningly tight in his already scream-swollen throat, and the blood caked under his fingernails seemed all the more dirty. Without thinking his fingers clenched tightly around the open lapels of Obi-Wan's cloak while the sobs he'd been holding back flooded his mouth and trickled past his cracked lips. "My fault- it's all my fault." The words tumbled out with his tears, pouring desolately into the frigid night. Something broke inside him, then, and all the rage, hurt, and regret poured like a sticky hot mess into his throbbing heart. 

Obi-Wan tightened his hold on Anakin, pulling the boy into his lap so that he could rock them ball and forth, the way he used to when his young padawan would become upset over not understanding something. He almost smiled when he remembered a time when Anakin did nothing but pester him to learn, but the sorrowful shaking of that same boy brought a sobriety to the twitch of his lips. It had been too long since the old master has shown this kind of comfort to his padawan, but he felt like having that body in his arms once again was as easy as coming home. "You did all you could, Anakin. She's here, now, because of you."

That was the wrong thing to say. 

Anakin wrenched himself out of his master's grip and stood, pacing like a caged predator in front of Obi-Wan. "I wasn't fast enough. I should've been here. I never should've left her here." He growled, his knuckles white as his fingernails dug into the flesh of his palms, more blood pouring from the already torn skin covering them, the red substance staining his finger tips angrily. "I could've saved her. Why? Why wasn't I fast enough? Why wasn't I strong enough? Why?!"

With a sage-like quietness Obi-Wan waited for Anakin's rant to end, counting to three before rising himself and gently dusting the sand from his robes. Cautiously, so as to not startle the other man, Obi-Wan extended his hand until it could grasp at Anakin's tunic, turning his padawan to face him. "Your mother would be proud that you made something of yourself." He said, punctuating his words with gentle tugs of his hand. "She wanted the world for you, you have to understand that. If she saw you now, how do you think she would feel? How would she feel to see her first born tearing himself apart because of this?"

"She-" Anakin started out of habit, having heard this argument many times before when he'd wanted to give up and go home to his mother. At the silent prompting of his master he mumbled, "She would tell me to be strong; to not let it destroy me. She would want me to keep moving and protect those who can't protect themselves."

Obi-Wan smiled ruefully. "And?"

"And she would want me to forgive myself." Anakin sobbed angrily. "But I can't. I can't do it, Master. It was my fault that I didn't save her in time and now Padamé is in danger because we left Naboo and I- I'm just messing everything up."

With a click of his tongue Obi-Wan pulled his apprentice to his chest once more, tucking the slightly taller body into his arms with a bruising protectiveness. "I'll bet she forgives you," he said. "She loves you, Anakin. She'll never look upon you with hate or anger the way you are to yourself. So why? Why disrespect her memory by ignoring what she would want you to do?"

"But-"

"No buts." Obi-Wan pulled away and placed his hands on either side of Anakin's face, searching the bloodshot eyes for what he believed should be there: hope and a chance at forgiveness. "You are her first born son. She will love you more than anyone else forever. She would want you to live a happy life full of peace and learning. When I knew her she told me she wanted a better life for you, not the life of a slave." His thumb gently brushed the tears away from Anakin's eyes, his own expression softening to something less than parental but more than friendly. "She wanted you to find a life away from this place. Have you not done that?" 

Guilt at the hurt radiating between himself and his master's bond made Anakin stutter in his self-deprecating speech, his feet tangling at the sudden wave of fresh pain drowning his heart. He looked sorrowfully at his master, at the man who had become his home, his purpose, his whole life, and he nodded. "I found you, didn't I? Or, you found me, I suppose."

"You suppose?" Obi-Wan raised a teasing eyebrow, his thumb stroking thoughtfully across the sharp curve of his padawan's face. "The first time I laid eyes on you, you barely reached my waist. You were so young, so full of purpose, and now-" he paused to observe the strong body before him appreciatively, humming his content at the sight before whispering, "Now, you are exactly as I imagined you: strong, brave, ready to face the galaxy with your head held high. You're proud, but you are more than capable of handling yourself, as you've proven more than once."

Calm adoration for his master filtered into Anakin's tight chest, something unscrewing and loosening into a puddle by his toes. He sighed as a few more tears slid down his cheeks and his lips trembled, his throat bobbed as he tried to hold back violent sobs. "I miss her." He whispered. 

"I know." Obi-Wan opened his arms and pulled his padawan to his chest once more, shushing the spasming boy as he cards his hands over his tense muscles. "It's okay, Anakin. It'll all be okay. Cry, scream, break something. But tomorrow, when we move the senator to a safe location, I need you to pick up the pieces and move on. I'll help you. Padame will help you. You aren't alone."

Knowing that his master was telling him to break the Jedi code made Anakin shiver. Never in all his training as Obi-Wan allowed this, but there he was, telling his turbulent apprentice to feel, and then to let go, to allow himself to heal. He was making a promise of permanent companionship, something the younger of the two didn't take lightly. Anakin sniffed into his shoulder, his arms circling Obi-Wan's waits tightly. "You promise?" His voice was raspy from hours of tortured crying, the sound grating sorrowfully on his master's ears like the sand stretching for miles around them. 

"I promise."

The air was growing colder as the night wore on, the golden ground turning frigid as the night winds began to blow harder, whipping the men's clothes about their bodies as they stood resolute on the surface. Down in the home Owen, Beru, and Padame were sitting in the kitchen, warm cups of coffee cupped in their hands, varying degrees of heartbreak and fear mixing on their faces as they stared down into the swirling depth of their drinks. The owner of the home was laying on his too large bed, the memory of his past wife still pressed into the mattress where she would lay for hours simply staring at the ceiling. She'd painted a map of the systems across it, wondering which planet her little boy would land on next, if he was safe, what he looked like after all these years. Lars decided not to paint over it like he had planned.

Almost an hour later Obi-Wan pulled away from the trap of Anakin's embrace, taking the rage-pale face between his callused palms once more, his thumbs stroking tenderly through the tear tracks littering the youthful visage of his apprentice. His blue eyes met the bloodshot pools of agony in the face before him, a sudden protective need welling up angrily in his chest. In this moment, he believed he would've done exactly what Anakin did: he would've slaughtered every evil monster that caused such a pure creature to feel such intense pain and suffering. The feeling quickly passed and a sober sympathy replaced it once again. 

"Let's go inside, young one. You need to rest." Obi-Wan's hands slipped down Anakin's cheeks, neck, arms, and took the other's fingers between his own. "I could sleep with you tonight, for old times sake?"

Even if the offer could be received as empty on the recipient's part, he meant it. Obi-Wan felt suddenly responsible for letting his best friend come into this kind of hurt. He should've protected him, taught him better, been a better master. Now, all he could do was watch as his apprentice came apart at the seams from grief. 

Surprised at the notion Anakin sniffled before ducking his head. "Would you sleep with me?" He asked, scuffing his boot against the dry earth. Realizing his words seemed a little too enticing for the situation he blushed. "Stay with me tonight, I mean. Just sleeping. You and me."

Obi-Wan grinned at the stuttering Anakin, giving his hands a quick tug to pull the younger man towards the house. "Go and get ready, I have to report to the Order. I'll be in shortly."

Anakin wearily untangled his fingers from Obi-Wan's, walking soberly towards the door. When he reached it he turned around with his mouth open, eyes wide and expectant. 

"I'll be right in!" Obi-Wan interjected with a chuckle. "Go one. Go shower and get into bed, I'll be along shortly."

With a pout and a sigh Anakin disappeared into the house to do just that. Obi-Wan smiled fondly at the retreating form of his apprentice before walking over to his fighter, clicking on his comm unit as he did so. "Master Yoda? Are you there?" The comm crackled with static before beeping twice, registering that Yoda wasn't available but a message could still be transmitted. "Alright. I found Anakin. He's doing badly, so we'll be staying on Tatooine for the next few days until he's back on his feet. About our conversation earlier, I'd really appreciate it if you would reconsider. I believe it's time for the Jedi to set down roots and have families. Please, don't take this decision lightly. I'm willing to leave the Order if you refuse. I'm afraid don't see a future there without having someone to share it with."

The comm unit beeped again, a green button flashing as the message was sent. Obi-Wan stared at the comm like it betrayed him, his emotions bubbling dangerously below his mental shields. Then something was softly prodding at his walls, something warm and cautious and trusting, and Obi-Wan felt his defenses drop. Anakin's force signature spilled into his own, their minds connected as their energies swarmed together in light, bursting moments of shared emotion. Obi-Wan could feel his padawan's sadness, his grief, his cautious want for human contact. Anakin could feel his master's rage and discontent, so he pushed further into the wise signature he could sense anywhere, seeking the comfort he knew was lurking there. 

Obi-Wan gave a soft huff, almost a laugh, as he turned and walked inside, following the pull of his friend to a closed door. The lock clicked open as the metal slab slid away, revealing a rather spacious room filled with metal scraps and a large bed. Anakin was huddled under the covers near the head of the mattress, his hair peeking out from the top of the comforter, the pillow dipping as he rose up onto his elbows. 

"Are you okay?" Anakin asked. He pushed the blankets aside to make room for his master, scratching at his now bare chest, his skin still slightly damp from his quick shower. His anticipation was evident, childish even, but it was endearing all the same. "You're angry. At- at me?" He shifted uncomfortably, rising up onto his knees in a submissive gesture, showing he would take whatever punishment he'd earned. "For what I did?"

Obi-Wan sighed. "No, I am not upset with you, young one. I am upset with another problem that has been in discussion with the Council for some time now. I only wish they would come to a decision soon." 

Anakin relaxed minutely at that, his shoulders slumping like a child expecting to be hit. "But I killed people. Innocent people, whole families." The tears had returned then, streaming in burningly hot streaks down his cheeks as he relived the anger, the hopelessness, the regret. His fists clenched tightly as he continued, "I slaughtered them. All of them. Most of them didn't do anything, and I killed them anyway." He looked up at his master with helpless, watery eyes. "I deserve to be punished, Master. I deserve your anger. Please..."

He didn't know what he was begging for. Forgiveness? He didn't deserve such a thing. A pure concept such as reconciliation could never be considered for the unworthy boy who had too strong emotions and no way to control them. Was he hoping that his punishment would purify him? No. He was too filthy, to blackened for anyone to wash him clean by now. He was saturated with the blood of the innocent, his ears rang with the dying screams of children, his fingers were numb from gripping his light saber so tightly. 

From across the room Obi-Wan stood, petrified, watching his friend slowly come apart under his own guilt. He wanted to reach out and take that lanky body into his arms again, but he feared that any sort of offer of comfort might be received illy at this point. Instead, he settled gently onto the bed beside his padawan, leaning back against the headboard, crossing his arms and legs, closing his eyes as he relaxed his muscles. He waited a moment before whispering, "I've killed before, too. I know the feeling of life draining away by your own hands. You need not worry about punishment, deserving or not."

Anakin looked over at his master and glared. "But you've always done it for the good of the Republic. I did it in cold blood."

Obi-Wan huffed indignantly. "Really? Do you remember the story of how I defeated Darth Maul after he murdered Qui-Gon?" He cracked an eye open before passing a hand tiredly over his face. "It wasn't my training that gained me that victory. It was my anger at having lost the closest thing I'd ever had to a father." 

In the dark of the room Obi-Wan reached out a steady arm, his hand curving over Anakin's jaw gently, fingertips brushing against the racing pulse found there. Anakin sighed, instinctually leaning into his master's touch, as his mind raced. 

"You- you actually lost control?" He finally asked. 

With a nod and a playful cuff of Anakin's jaw Obi-Wan slipped off the bed, walking slowly to the wall. He trailed his fingers over the plaster until they hit what he hoped was the light switch. The large room was illuminated by a single power cord running the length of the ceiling, the strange yellow glow washing like sunlight over the cool space. Anakin blinked at the sudden brightness, his already burning eyes sparking with sharp pain, his shoulders hitching in a slightly involuntary flinch. 

"I was not always the distant man you see before you." Obi-Wan smiled ruefully. "I was a padawan learner just like you. That day was the last day I allowed myself to loose control, especially when I was entrusted with your education."

Anakin shifted against the blankets again and settled beneath them, staring soberly at the wall. "I still killed all those sand people. I'm a Jedi, I know I'm better than this." He turned onto his side and pressed his face into the pillow, mouth drawn up in a painful grimace.

Obi-Wan walked over to the bed and sat down again, one hand automatically finding its way into Anakin's hair, brushing the short blonde strands tenderly. "Let's not think about that now. Let me see your hands."

Still raw from their previous attacks Anakin offered his palms for inspection, wincing when Obi-Wan's fingers prodded at the new scabs. The wounds weren't exactly deep, but there were deep enough crescent moon markings that the area was angrily red. The tanned skin around the cuts were rosy red from the abuse, a few droplets of blood pooling around them as gentle fingers searched for any sign of infection or sand cracked into the clotted ichor. 

"I'll be right back, I'm going to get the med kit."

When he had the gauze and antiseptic spray and Anakin's hand was wrapped tightly, Obi-Wan turned off the light again and laid beneath the covers. He slowly opened his arms and smiled as his padawan crawled meekly into them. The warm cage of Obi-Wan's arms made Anakin shiver gently, his tense body fighting the sudden waves of exhaustion. A small huff of a laugh washed against Anakin's hair as Obi-Wan lowered his chin onto the younger man's head, closing his eyes peacefully. 

"Goodnight, Anakin. Sleep well."

"Thank you, Master. For everything."

Obi-Wan smiled and placed a tender kiss on Anakin's hair, nuzzling his nose deeper into the slightly damp locks. "You are welcome."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I’ve been writing forever it seems, and being able to share this little idea with you all means a lot to me <3
> 
> Also click on my profile to view an amazing artwork gifted to me! It's a drawing of one of the more precious scenes in the beginning of the fic and I'm absolutely in love with it. 
> 
> And as always I will see YOU-
> 
> In the next fic. 
> 
> Buh-bye!


End file.
